


It's No Game

by KikyoShotFirst



Category: Jazzpunk (Video Game)
Genre: Espionage, Frottage, Intercrural Sex, Nonbinary Character, Other, Poor attempts at humor, kind of fake relationship, mature content in later chapters, nb polyblank, nonvocal character, poor attempts at eroticism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 08:49:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17280920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KikyoShotFirst/pseuds/KikyoShotFirst
Summary: Polyblank is assigned to collect information about the Editor, which ends up getting a little more complicated than they bargained for. But who is really playing who, exactly?





	It's No Game

It had been a few days since Polyblank had been inside the Director’s office. Polyblank had been granted a bit of a break from work considering how their previous vacation hadn’t really counted. They had to admit, it was almost comforting to be back at work, which must say something about their personal life. 

“Please, take a seat,” said the Director, waving his hand. Polyblank nodded gratefully, and picked up one of the chairs off the ground. 

“Er, I mean, please be seated,” the Director amended. Polyblank awkwardly sat, still holding the chair in their arms. They waited dutifully for instruction.

“Right. Anyways, I have a job for you,” the Director continued, propping his shoes up on the desk as a gesture of relaxation. He leafed through several files labelled ‘Top Secret,’ ‘Middle Secret,’ and ‘Bottom Secret,’ before finally pulling out a heavy white file with several sheets of paper within. “This file contains all the information we have on the Editor.” 

Polyblank sat upright at the mention of their rival. Their hands itched to open the file and see its contents, to unravel the mystery of the enigmatic man.

“Unfortunately, this file mostly contains blank sheets of paper and shopping receipts that we put in so that the thing wouldn’t look so empty,”admitted the Director. “The truth is that we have next to no information on him- we don’t know his education, upbringing, business practices… that’s where you come in, Polyblank.”

They followed the Director’s gaze toward the blackboard, eyeing the chalk drawings that had been scribbled on the surface. A diagram of a camera was sketched, along with a simple layout of the Editor’s posh apartment. The Director continued, “We need you to scope him out. Fill in the blanks. Find out whatever you can, and bring that knowledge back to us.”

Polyblank considered the situation, a serious expression on their face. The Editor was a considerable foe, having nearly outwitted them before. Finding his secrets wouldn’t be easy. The Director mirrored their expression, his mouth set in a grim line. “I know you can do it. Just be on your toes. Infiltrate his penthouse while he’s away, investigate, and take a few pictures while you’re at it.” The Director handed them a heavy black camera, the latest model.

Polyblank wondered how they would be able to swipe the Editor’s paintings and pictures without him noticing, but they knew that the Director’s judgement was sound. They were still puzzling over what the camera was for.

“Now that that’s all settled, I leave the rest to you,” the Director said, retrieving his shoes from the desk. “In the meantime, I have a date that I need to get back to.” The Director submerged below his desk, relaxing in the company of a well-aged bottle of wine.

* * *

It was a dark and stormy night in the city. Rain poured down in buckets from the lightless sky, soaking everyone who braved walking the streets. Polyblank didn’t mind the rain so much, but the buckets were another story. Their trench coat was soaked through, making them shiver from the chill. They clutched their bag tightly and took off, leaping across the narrow gap between one roof to the next. They carried a small assortment of random items with them- the camera given to them by the director (its purpose still unknown), a fake moustache, a real moustache, and a few small tools. They also carried a tube of lipstick, because they never knew when they might have need of a snack.

Finally, they made it to the roof of the Editor’s apartment building. It had taken considerable effort to jump across the rooftops while also keeping on their toes, but Polyblank was an expert, after all. Light streamed through the windows of the penthouse, and Polyblank crept carefully across the roof. They took out a stethoscope, placing the bell flat against the building. They didn’t hear a pulse, and they didn’t hear any sounds of movement or voices. It seemed like the apartment was unoccupied. 

Emboldened, they began checking the windows for a way inside. Most of the windows didn’t open, being that they were situated at the top of a tower, but Polyblank soon located the emergency exit window located above a sheer drop off the building, pulling the handle and pushing the hatch. They swung through, perfectly executing a duck and roll into the living room. The plush carpet certainly made their landing easier. They froze, listening intently for any sounds, then relaxed as the apartment maintained its silence. They walked around the room, surveying for any kind of suspicious objects or evidence of activity. The place looked much the same as it had the last time they had been in it, perfectly furnished with a clean white carpet and open rooms. Polyblank wondered what kind of pictures the Director wanted them to take, and scanned the walls for any artwork that stood out. 

They searched every inch of the apartment, flipping through records and searching for any incriminating documents, but Polyblank couldn’t find anything. They found a grocery list and pored over it, but there was no hidden malice within the neat list of foodstuffs. Polyblank was about to give up and declare the mission a failure, until a certain door caught their eye. More specifically, the doorknob caught their eye when they tripped over the carpet and bashed their face into it. They rubbed their aching eye, looking over what they had landed in front of. It was the door to the Editor’s bedroom. Polyblank considered what lay beyond the door, wrestling internally with themselves. On one hand, even though the Editor was their antagonist, Polyblank felt that even he had some right to privacy. On the other hand, the Director was counting on him to find information, and what better place to find something secret than in a bedroom? They might even be able to dig up some dirt on the Editor, if the man kept a potted plant in there.

Polyblank put their inner misgivings in a headlock and carefully turned the knob to the bedroom. Surprisingly, the door was unlocked. They pushed it open with trepidation. What kind of horrors could lie in wait behind that door? Documents depicting devilish deeds? A closet full of torture implements? A secret sex dungeon? They blushed slightly as the last thought popped into their head. They shook their head firmly, trying to rid themselves of their hesitation. They stepped through the doorway cautiously, not knowing what to prepare for. 

Anticlimactically, the bedroom looked as normal as the rest of the penthouse. Granted, the bed was enormous and was covered in decorative pillows, but Polyblank could find no signs that it had been used for anything other than sleeping. They scoured the room, but could find nothing unusual, no important documents, no knives or pliers, and nothing that resembled a whip or chains. They did open the top drawer of the nightstand, immediately slamming it shut when they saw it contained what looked like lubricant and a box of condoms. Their face turned pink, and they resolutely did not consider opening the drawer again to find out what size they were. For the mission, of course.

Polyblank was almost disappointed. It turned out the mission had been for nothing after all. They were about to exit the bedroom and the apartment, when suddenly they heard the sound of a door being unlocked. They started to panic, realizing that the wall-free apartment layout meant that there was no way they could escape unnoticed. Polyblank could hear whistling coming from outside the bedroom.

“Hm, I do wonder where all of my paintings went,” the Editor remarked from outside, unaware of the flustered spy hiding in the bedroom. 

Polyblank considered hiding in the closet among the rows of identical suits, but then they noticed the dark footprints that they had left all over the carpet. Damn. They were in a desperate situation indeed. But Polyblank was a spy, and spies were masters of improvisation in desperate situations. As they heard the whistling coming nearer, Polyblank carried out the only plan they could think of.

 

The door knob turned. The Editor appeared, his suit crisp and pristine, his hair perfectly combed. He had been whistling when he walked in the room, but stopped dead as his face took on an expression of surprise. 

Rose petals were scattered on the bed, and Polyblank was propped up against the pillows, positioned in what they hoped was a ‘wanton sprawl’ (the description having been lifted from the illicit pages of ‘Plug and Socket’ magazine). They held a rose between their teeth, and blinked demurely at the Editor.

The Editor’s expression shifted from surprise to a smirk, looking like a cat that had cornered a particularly tasty mouse. He looked Polyblank up and down, his gaze so obvious it made Polyblank want to squirm. “Oh my, now this is a surprise,” he purred, closing the door behind him and moving towards the bed. 

Polyblank realized with sudden and complete clarity that they had no idea what to do now. They had been so caught up in finding a way to avoid getting murdered immediately that they neglected to consider what might happen if their plan succeeded. They wanted to get up and run out of the room, but their body refused to move, their legs taking a vacation without their approval. The Editor sat on the edge of the bed, setting down his hand dangerously close to Polyblank’s thigh. He spoke slowly and deliberately, his voice like honey, “I never would have expected you to be so bold… I’m impressed.”

The rational part of Polyblank’s mind screamed at them to run. They were unarmed and in dangerous territory, and if they had any survival instinct they would have been looking for ways to flee. Unfortunately, the rational part of their brain seemed to have taken off on the same unapproved vacation their legs had taken, and was leaving the operation of important tasks to Polyblank’s baser emotions. Polyblank knew they should be afraid, having been literally cornered by their arch enemy. But fear wasn’t what they were feeling. Instead, they felt excitement building within them, the same excitement that came with car chases and shootouts. It felt like a delicious, illicit kind of pleasure to be nearly defenseless right in front of their rival. It flowed through them like poison, rendering them helpless.

“I’m so glad you decided to visit, my dear…” the Editor whispered, gently stroking Polyblank’s cheek. They inhaled sharply, their pulse quickening. They couldn’t take their eyes off the Editor’s face, which had moved closer. That annoying rational part of Polyblank’s mind chimed in to say there was no possible way this situation could end well, but in spite of that, Polyblank really,  _ really _ wanted to see what would happen next.

The Editor brought his lips close to Polyblank’s ear, and they suppressed a shiver. “I’m glad you came to visit… But unfortunately, I’m a bit preoccupied tonight. I hope you will forgive me,” he said in a chipper voice, standing up and straightening his tie. Polyblank stared, dumbstruck, as the Editor nonchalantly walked around the room, whistling all the while. Suddenly self conscious, Polyblank arranged themselves into a position that was decidedly less wanton. Then they sat up cautiously, peering out the door, expecting assassins or henchmen to be right outside, ready to beat them to a pulp. Surprisingly there was nobody, not even one of the women who always seemed to be hanging around. It was exactly the opportunity they needed to escape, yet…

Polyblank glanced back at the Editor, who was casually speaking on the telephone. After a moment, the Editor looked back at Polyblank, who was standing motionless. They couldn’t help but feel disappointed somehow, mainly at the fact that they couldn’t find any useful information. That was it. They definitely weren’t disappointed that they hadn’t had the opportunity to be ravished by their nemesis. Not one bit. Thoroughly embarrassed, Polyblank shoved their hands in their pockets and began to make a hasty retreat. 

They hadn’t taken but a few steps out the door before they heard the Editor call out after them, “Ah, just one moment, Polyblank,” they heard, along with a few ‘yes’s and ‘no’s to whoever was on the other side of the telephone line. They froze as the Editor marched up to them, grabbing ahold of their sleeve and promptly depositing a paper card into their limp hand. Polyblank held it up, puzzled. Another business card? No, it had only a name, ‘The Cibernaut’, and a time, 6:30 PM tomorrow. 

“I’ve made the appropriate reservations for the two of us already. Do try to be on time, will you?” The Editor steered the still stunned spy toward the door. Once Polyblank’s brain functions returned, the Editor had already guided them out the door and into the hallway. The Editor was giving them one of his evil smirks, his eyes twinkling with mirth behind his horn-rimmed glasses. “I look forward to our date,” he said, his voice low. “Until then, have a good night, my dear.”

The door shut. Polyblank blinked. They stood there as still as a statue until their brain completed its reboot and they were able to process what had happened. 

They had a date. With the Editor. Tomorrow.

Clutching the piece of paper in their hand, they walked slowly toward the elevator, both trepidation and excitement building within them. They tried to smother the enthusiasm that was beginning to sprout at the prospect of sharing a date with their antagonist. It was only enthusiasm for being able to continue their mission, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the prospect of sharing a romantic evening with the Editor. Still, they thought to themselves, it couldn’t hurt to read up on ‘Plug and Socket’ magazine before the date. For the mission, of course.

 


End file.
